Dirty Little Secret
by Hugtheplanet
Summary: Inspired by the song Dirty Little Secret by The All-American Rejects. We all have secrets. What's yours? **DISCONTINUED**
1. Dominique

**A/N: This is most likely going to be the most… intense DLS chapter, simply because it is the most personal. So, uh, you've been warned. **

**Dirty Little Secret: Dominique**

I grip my broomstick firmly, text book style, perfected after years. The contrast between the wood and my pale, clammy hands is so bright that I am half waiting for my ghosts to drift over for a closer look. There are cheers and murmurs of talking around me as the Burrow gets ready for the usual Sunday family Quidditch game.

As soon as I am in the air, I know this is a bad idea. The world sways and little spasms and squiggles race to my heart. The part of my brain that hasn't been warped against my body screams for me to go back down, go to Grandma. Go to where she can feed me and stuff me until my body becomes filled with treacle and fudge and meatballs and butterbeer and pumpkin juice and other yummy things that make my ears pop. This voice is immediately turned off when I see Mama.

Mama is Fleur, carved into a perfect shiny Lady, _prettythinskinnyslim_. She was ripped out of wood and bone marrow and tempered with water and intimidation until she became the perfect fire breathing witch for daring William Arthur Weasley. Victoire is Daddy's princess, and Louis makes Mama so proud by being the perfect handsome funny bloke of every girl's dreams.

I am caught in between, floating in between, where our worlds collide. They say I am shiny and pretty and perfect and new with my small mouse body, but I know better. They are all morons. They don't see the icky yellow bubbles of fat under my skin, threatening to burst and explode so everyone can see the evil ugliness.

In my haze, I go back to when I was perfect - so fucking perfect that I was a bright light bulb in a cage for all the world to see. My world was filled with daises and sunshine and butter, White dresses, dancing in the rain and singing with mocking birds. And then, somehow, the little wisps of smoke and spirit and soul invaded me, ripping and slashing in me until my eyes were forced open, chipping and chipping and chipping until I could finally see the truth.

My thoughts are shattered by Roxanne's shriek, My vision warps to the sight of James and Louis and Fred zooming on their brooms towards me, faces on angryfire and eyes full of scaredyice. Tiny eggshell screams echo in my head as shadow hands hold me tight, covering my eyes.

/::big/wind/rip/crash::/

The first thing I see when the hands finally release me is Mama's perfect, anxious face, next to my immortal Grandma who worries about everything. And then it is Auntie Katie, who is not really my auntie, but is close enough to be one. She quickly becomes Healer Wood, gently pushing Grandma and Mama out of the way. I am lucky that it is a Burrow Sunday because Healer Wood doesn't have her entire health check kit of doom in the living room. She is only able to tell everyone that I fainted from lightheadedness because I didn't eat breakfast.

Wrongwrongwrong. I don't remember eating [a proper] breakfast, dinner or lunch. I am keeping my mouse body small from Drooble's Best Blowing Gum and tiny whisper sips of pumpkin juice. My jaws hurt so bad it's hard to talk and my stomach curls at the very thought of pumpkin juice, but soon it'll be worth it. I'll be worth it. Everyone else is like a muggle Merry-go-round horse, eyes painted to what they want to see. They think tree trunks are saplings. Idiots.

Then, Louis and James and Fred are back, their expressions funeral appropriate. They have something in their hands. It is my broomstick, eight years old, with the word 'Firebolt' only fading a little. I cringe because even though I am not a Ravenclaw, I know this is bad. I am slightly scared- I never lived with the concept of no fear, like a Gryffindor. I am not a Hufflepuff, I can't see my mistake.

Daddy comes in and everyone hushes. His face is so paper pale that the scars from the slashes Fenrir Greyback gave him all those years ago stand out vivid. He looks at me and then sees the broom before Fred and James and Louis can cover it up. Now everybody winces. Daddy rages at me for half an hour because broken broomsticks are a big, expensive, mad-daddy thing. I was stupidcrazydelirious to try to play Quidditch on an empty stomach :: What the hell was I trying to prove?

When he leaves, Auntie Audrey and Auntie Ginny try to tell me that he was oh-so-very-worried and yelling at me was his was of trying to tell me that. Idiots. Daddy can't punish me harder than myself.

I already am.

I've got a plan.

**A/N: **

**So that's it for Dominique. Please review. Some of you lovely readers may notice the **_**Wintergirls**_** quotes in here. Yeah, I don't own Laurie's amazing work. Just like how I don't own all this HP stuff. This is the most intense I want to try. Maybe when I become a better writer, I'll push the line a little further, but not right now. **

**Just so you know, I will try to update, but this isn't like I can just string some words together. I really have to feel this in order to write. I write based on my mood, so I can't tell you when my next update is going to be. **

**And, I got this idea off of the song Dirty Little Secret by The All-American Rejects. I love how everyone just shares their DLS. So, yeah. Here it goes. **

**My DLS: Every bite of food is like a handful of nails but I am too scared to stop. **


	2. Astoria

Dirty Little Secret: Astoria

Astoria Greengrass was not a negative person. She just had a realistic point of view on life. Nobody seemed to get that. Take for instance, her comments on Potter. After Potter had saved the Wizarding World with his pathetic friends, they were famous.

The past Monday, she had said to her best friend, Aurora, "They're probably only friends for the fame… and the fact that they need someone to baby-sit the brats the Wizarding World is waiting for." Astoria got smacked in the arm for that. But it wasn't her fault. Her older sister, Daphne, was in the same year as the Potter dork. Daphne went off, for hours on end, about how stupid, how absurd, how conceited, how insane, how… desperate Harry Potter was, with his bunched up, random group of friends.

Bastards.

Although the term was overdramatic and strong, even though the term would only be applied to none of _them_, it relieved some of her anger and hatred.

Daphne always told her, every September 1st, that while the Greengrass's had the stupid name, they were just as pure. Their temper even greater. Hell, looking back now, even their mother, a silent shadow on every wall, said that the only family that could match the Greengrass temper was the Black family.

But they were over. The blood traitor, Sirius, died in her third year, on Ministry grounds. Regulus died defying the Dark Lord. Mummy and Daddy, they grew old. Bellatrix, poof. Narcissia, now a Malfoy. Andromeda married a… muggleborn. Ha. So the Greengrass's remained victorious.

After pausing for a moment at the small room which had no furniture, only the wreathing branches of the pureblood family trees on the walls, a pureblood tradition, Astoria made her way up the curved staircase. Tonight was the Arranging. It was another pureblood tradition.

An extremely over-decorated ball, Slytherin colors only, dress code: green/silver/grey dress, black tuxedo with a green tie. Oh, and the twist?

All persons, arranged to be married, were required to wear a mask.

Astoria got hers the day before. Totally ignoring her owl, Markeb, she and Daphne gazed at it with wonder.

It was green, with delicate, shimmering embroidery. Just a little bit bigger than her eyebrows, the mask rested slightly below her cheekbones. The eye holes were in a perfect almond shape, and at the corner of each eye were three very small white diamonds.

"Wow. You must have someone important. Mine wasn't nearly as good." Daphne was getting married to Blaise Zambini in the spring. Her mask was grey, with the three green emeralds next to the eyes.

Astoria secretly agreed with her sister, but to be formal and polite, she gave a murmur of dissent. Blaise Zambini was someone worth well, _something_, in Astoria's opinion. _Very _good looking, rich, hung out with the right crowd - although he distanced himself from the 'dirty work'- clever and a Slytherin. But Astoria could see, deep in his eyes, the gliding darkness. Blaise Zambini was not a Death Eater. But he wasn't an anti-Dark Lord either. He operated on his own agenda, and his alone.

"Malfoy may think he's got Zambini wrapped around his thumb, but he's wrong. Blaise will stick a knife in his back." Astoria thought, smirking to herself. Daphne better be careful. And then, Astoria's thoughts drifted to the blonde-haired "ring-leader."

His features were pointed, and his consistent smirking didn't help. Malfoy was the type of person that cold would naturally be drawn to, carved in stone. He agreed with the Death Eater policies, for the most part. But, he got in too deep. And he was trapped, his life swirling around him, the truth unwinding, scraping at his mind. Oh, yes. Draco Malfoy was lucky, very lucky to have survived it. Not all were so fortunate.

After his father landed in Azkaban because of Potter, Malfoy changed. Twisted and warped. Astoria stopped trying to get his attention after that. No, Daphne and Pansy can have him. Far away, in a perfect land, there was a perfect young witch, who went to a school. Legendary. Then, she met a eerily handsome young wizard. Girl mispronounces words, falls over and fades away. Girl's sister and sister's friend swoop in to get Boy. Girl is hurt, sister doesn't notice. Girl stays in shadows, sees all, hears all. Tells none. Her lips are sealed with pain/jealousy/fear/anger. _And no one notices… _

Astoria looked strong, so strong, so wonderfully invincible. Did she talk to her… friends during lunch/dinner/breakfast/day? Probably. Honestly, she can't remember. Daphne's voice brought Astoria out of her own head. "Your makeup is horrible."

If Daphne knew Astoria's definition of horrible, she would scream and shriek, all of history deleted with one stroke.

Astoria smiled at her sister. "Oh, well then I guess I'll just go bare. Your foundation burns my skin. It's way too cheap."

Daphne looked insulted. Astoria got up from the vanity, and went into the bathroom. In the mirror, she washed her face; now the bags under her eyes were noticeable. Not that anyone would notice. Except her ghosts.

"_Stop your screaming, no one can hear._" Dolohov crooned, his misty arms wrapped around Astoria's thin shoulders.

_Fin_

**A/N: **

**So… any thoughts? I'll admit, it was really weird for me to write this, especially the last part. But, awkwardness is a small price to pay for being so disgustingly slow! I apologize, from the depths of my heart! Basically, life got the better of me- and did I mention I hate math? *sigh* Oh well. Tell me what you think, PLEASE! I know people have got to look at this, the two lovely reviews I have and the tracker stats tell me so! **

**Now, in true DLS fashion… **

**My DLS: I hear them, even if I can't see them. **


	3. Lily L

Dirty Little Secret: Lily

Lily Luna Potter was eternally overshadowed. And she hated it, every minute of it.

Her father: The Great Harry Potter

Her mother: The Fiery Ginny Weasley

Albus: Strong and Silent; the spitting image of his father

James and Fred and Louis: The Next Generation of Marauders

Hugo: Energetic and Easygoing

Teddy and Victoire: The World's Cutest Couple

Lucy and Molly: Witty Raven[s]claw

Roxanne and Dominique: Quidditch extraordinaires

Her Aunts and Uncles: War Heroes, each and every one of them

And then there was Lily.

"Dying flames burn the brightest." Lily mused to herself and she watched the flickering flame. She longed to reach out and stroke it. It hovered between the cusp of safety and danger.

"Does it hurt?" Lily whispered to the dark and empty kitchen. Everybody had gone to bed and she was alone- trapped.

"Lily?" Lily's eyes, not shockingly green like her father and Albus and not warmly attractive like her mother and James, snapped up. Albus was at the top of the stairs, his silhouette barely visible in the dying candlelight.

Lily blew out the candle.

"All right Lily!" James cheered as Lily finished her descent down the stairs. "You're going to Hogwarts!" She was met by grins from her parents and brothers- along with Uncle Ron, Aunt Hermione, Rose and Hugo. They came over so often that it was no surprise to see them at the dinner table, even at the most strange times.

Everyone was around the table, happily eating and chatting. It was like a picture in a magazine. Lily tried to remember why she was so… wilted.

Rose cut in, her voice pinched despite her best efforts. "So, future- Gryffindor, how excited are you?"

That was why. All the expectations and covering and not recognizing. Lily blinked. Everyone was eating, no difference.

Going to the table, Lily snagged a piece of toast and slowly munched on it, with sips of sugared green tea in between.

And then, it seemed like the next thing she knew, everyone was packing their trunks in the car. Magically expanded of course.

With more than a half hour before they had to leave, her father turned to Hugo. "So, Hugo, do you wanna go talk to the portraits before we leave? Question them senseless?"

"Snape is gonna love that!" Uncle Ron chortled, while Aunt Hermione tried to look disapproving, but was failing.

"Nope." Hugo said proudly. "I know I'm going to be a Gryffindor."

"Nice." Her mother laughed. "What about you, Lily- Lily?"

"Over here." Lily said quietly, from her corner by the counter. "And yes, I'd like to talk to them." Her father looked at her, confusion clouding his gaze, but before he could speak, Lily left in a flash of red hair.

In her father's study, there were portrait of all those who her father had lost and then some. Some people Lily never hear about.

The original James and Lily, at 20, painted in a cozy house at Christmas. Sirius at Hogwarts with Remus and Tonks. Fred in the joke shop. Snape in library or potions classroom. Dumbledore in the headmasters' study. Many of other paintings, along with three massive ones- the first Order, the second Order and Dumbledore's Army. Most of these paintings had other frames throughout Wizarding Britain- and possibly the Wizarding World.

When Lily walked into the study, only Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape were present in their frames.

"Ah, Lily. I had a feeling we'd be seeing you." Dumbledore nodded at her. "You look troubled." Snape said softly. He was always civil to her- distantly polite. Lily glanced around the room and bit her lip.

"Something you'd like to tell us, Lily?" Dumbledore prodded gently. She burst into speech. "I'm sick of being the Chosen One's daughter. I'm sick of being unknown, overshadowed… I just - just… ugh." She kicked the desk.

"And what do you propose we do about that?" Snape said, looking at her in genuine concern. Lily hugged herself. "Tell me about Slytherin."

"Potter, Lily."

The air of the Great Hall was relaxed. Everyone knew that Potters and Weasleys were Gryffindors. It didn't stop the murmurs of interest or hopeful looks though.

Lily slumped on the stool and felt the soft leather of the Sorting Hat obscure her eyes.

_No place for you except- _

"SLYTHERIN!" The hat screamed as Lily blinked.

The Great Hall was silent. Stumbling slightly, Lily went to the Slytherin table, trying to drown out her family and friends in Gryffindor.

Their noises of protest hurt.

**A/N: Well, that was a fail. I absolutely ****love**** Slytherin!LilyL and tried my own angsty one. Err… what do you think? **


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